


Drink Your Fill

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [104]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU Where Loki Gets His Shit Together and Makes Amends, Asgardian Liquor, Drunkenness, M/M, Multi, Post-Avengers (2012), Steve Is Trashed But Happily Consenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 19:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15613764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: Ok, it’s a little strange, sitting on his sofa with a deity on either side.





	Drink Your Fill

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Modern era and I drunkenly fell down the stairs and broke my ankle. Prompts from this [generator](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator).

Steve can’t stop laughing--the bent over, clutching his sides, nearly falling off the couch kind. Fuck, it feels good to lose it, to be happy, to let his voice rise and crash off the walls, the ceiling, and not give a good goddamn who can hear. Or rather, gods. He’s got two of them to thank for the feeling, actually.

And ok, it’s a little strange, sitting on his sofa with a deity on either side. Especially when one of those deities tried to blow Steve’s city off the map not so long ago. Maybe he shouldn’t be so easy to forgive. But the other god, Thor, is a friend, and one of the few with whom Steve can commiserate about the odd ways of this world and all the people in it. They’re both strangers to this century, this planet, Steve and Thor, and it means a lot to him that there’s someone on the team who doesn’t mock him when the modern era overwhelms him, starts to feel like too much. He trusts Thor, he _likes_ Thor, and if Thor is willing to vouch for his formerly murderous brother, to sit near Loki with so much ease and with his hammer nowhere in sight, then Steve can relax, too, can lift another mug of this actual nectar of the gods and laugh again for what feels like the first time in ages.

“Darling,” Loki says, his hand a sudden weight on Steve’s wrist, “don’t you think you’ve had enough of that?”

Steve stares dumb into the mug, then up at Loki’s face. “‘Course not,” he says. “The glass is half full, isn’t it?”

He can feel Thor chuckling beside him, a warm, solid sound. “He’s got you there, brother. It’s your fault for giving him a vessel so large.”

“Well, I didn’t think he’d drink it all. I thought he had more sense than that. Didn’t you say he was the reasonable one on your little team?”

A strong arm slips around Steve’s waist and there’s a tug, one it makes sense to lean into. “Mmmm,” Thor says. “Never give the Captain a mission and bet he can’t finish.”

It takes Steve a moment and another three sips to realize that they’re both touching him still, that neither of them has bothered to let go. Loki’s fingers are sitting on his arm, delicate, like Steve’s made of porcelain or paper or something, but Thor, Thor’s holding on to him hard and Steve’s head is on his shoulder, like the guy’s a bulwark, a bulkhead, a big solid slab to keep him steady on a wide, uncertain sea.

“What on earth do you find so amusing?” Loki says, snide. No, that’s not right. The words are snide, but Loki isn’t; there’s a softness to his voice now that makes it feel like a caress. Which to Steve makes no actual sense. Not even after another long, long pull at his glass, another swallow of the sweet boozy whatever that makes his heart feel like a hummingbird, his head like a big ol’ Macy’s balloon.

“Nothing’s _funny_ ,” he manages to say. “Unless you two are telling knock knock jokes that I can’t hear and I’m gettin’ em by aussie moses or something.”

Now Loki’s the one chuckling. “Osmosis, you mean?”

“Mmmhmmm, yep. That. You guys have that on Asgard?”

Thor’s voice ruffles Steve’s hair. “In fact, we do. And I think, friend Steve, that Loki is right: you have drunk your fill.”

The glass is in his hand one second and the next, the thing’s gone, and in its place is Loki’s palm, like dry leaves against his own. It only makes sense to grab it, to see what a god’s fingers look like laced through his own.

Pretty, Steve decides. They look pretty.

“He is beautiful, isn’t he?”

Thor makes a low sound, one that rumbles through Steve’s back. “Loki. Don’t.”

“Tsk. Please. Don’t go all prudish on me now, brother. This little visit was, after all, your idea. What did you call it? Extending an olive branch?” Loki’s face turns and all at once his breath is warm on Steve’s neck, a summer breeze that makes Steve smile, makes that smile go wide. “I think your friend is feeling very amenable right now, aren’t you, Captain Rogers?”

Words are hard for Steve right now, all of them too confusing and long. It’s so much easier to squeeze Loki’s hand, to reach out for that long hair and touch. Oh, it’s soft; soft and wavy. Fun to pet. Maybe to pull?

“Steve,” Thor says serious, his voice cutting through the fog, “you’re not--you know don’t have to--”

He says _not_ , he says _don’t_ , but his friend’s still holding on to him, still holding him up, still blowing words across the top of Steve’s head like a headwind. Steve knows he’s drunk, knows he’s more trashed than he’s been since his 18th birthday when Bucky stole a bottle of rotgut from the corner store and got them both blotto, and that’s what’s so good about it, what’s making him feel so damn pleased with himself, with the world, with the kind of universe that can dump him in the laps of two gods who aren’t hard to look at and who it feels so fucking nice to touch, to have touching him, _smiling_ at him. Fuck, Loki’s pretty when he smiles.

“Am I?” Loki says. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself. Which is what my brother wants to say, would say, if he weren’t feeling so protective of you.” He skims a thumb over Steve’s chin. “But you don’t need protection, do you Steve? Not from me. It’s the quiet ones you have to worry about.”

“ _Loki_ ,” Thor says again, but it’s different this time, desperate. It sends a shot of want through Steve’s body, the parts of him that aren’t comfortably numb, and he wriggles in their grasp like a fish, one that’s not fighting the line, one that’s eager to be tugged out into the light, hook in his cheek be damned.

Loki sighs, lets it wash across Steve’s throat. “Just kiss him already, brother. Or I’ll be tempted to take his mouth for myself.”

“God, yes, please,” Steve hears himself say, swallows, and then he’s being wrenched around, turned, and pulled once and for good into Thor’s lap, his knees slipping as Thor settles him across those redwood thighs. There’s no ceremony then, no more talking, good, because Thor’s mouth is hot and wide and his kisses are unrelenting, wet and fierce and dirty--it feels so amazingly dirty to be grinding in a god’s lap while another god is snugged up beside them, his hand in Steve’s hair, another competing with Thor’s to trace the curve of Steve’s ass.

It feels so good to be drunk, so good to be out of it enough so that he isn’t thinking, isn’t worrying, isn’t considering the consequences of any damn thing except what happens when he nips at Thor’s lip or when he leans back into Loki’s grip, when all that matters is how hard it’s making him, being overwhelmed like this, held like this, caught between two beings to whom he’s only a man.

“This is nice,” Loki purrs in Steve’s ear. “But you know what would be nicer? A bed.”

The air barely moves, Steve barely gets in a breath before Thor is tumbling backwards, before Steve’s hands are clawing at something suddenly soft on either side of Thor’s head.

“Ah,” Loki says. “Much better. And how lovely you look on top of my brother, Captain.”

Thor laughs, a sound that sneaks out through the seams of their kiss, and catches Steve’s thighs, shifts him back into a grind. “Let me assure you, Loki: he feels even better.”

“Fuck,” Steve gets out. He can’t help it, can’t help the urgent hitch of his hips, the needy noises falling out of his mouth. “Fuck, Thor. Fuck, you’re so”--he groans, he has to--“you’re so big.”

“Oh, darling,” Loki murmurs, his nails chasing each other down the length of Steve’s back. “You have no idea. Wait until he’s inside you.”  



End file.
